


strange things did happen here

by Singofsolace



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Witch Hunters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-13 11:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21243662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singofsolace/pseuds/Singofsolace
Summary: Late one afternoon, Mary Wardwell feels compelled to take a walk in the Greendale woods. Quite unexpectedly, she happens upon a woman who was attacked and left for dead at the foot of the Hanging Tree. But will the mysterious Zelda Spellman accept her help?Response to the Madam Spellman Fictober Challenge Prompt: Hurt/Comfort





	strange things did happen here

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from the song “The Hanging Tree” from The Hunger Games. This fic takes place about fifteen years before the events of CAOS, which would make Miss Wardwell in her late 30s. Witch hunters attempt to make an example of Zelda Spellman. There will be two more chapters after this, one of which will be from Zelda's perspective. That one will be a bit more intense, since it will back track and explain how she came to be lying beneath the hanging tree.
> 
> Please let me know what you think!

Mary Wardwell didn’t typically go for walks in the woods. After all, she was raised on stories about the Witches of Greendale. She was well aware that her town was deeply haunted, and that there was no more haunted place than the hanging tree, just a few short miles north of her cabin. Her grandmother had once scolded her for wandering off into the woods in search of it, stating that the girl was lucky a witch hadn’t cursed her for all eternity. Mary had been thoroughly punished for her curiosity, forced to sit in the corner sewing, with nary a break to eat a spot of supper, until her fingers bled and her eyes could hardly strain enough to see her stich work.

But that was in the past, of course. She was a grown woman now and could take a stroll through the woods without the fear of punishment… it was just that she rarely did. The woods felt alive, in some way, and even though she knew that she was being silly and superstitious, she couldn’t quite shake the idea that if she ventured too far into the woods, she would never return to her cabin.

That was why when she felt the urge to go for a stroll through the forest in the fading autumn light, she felt immediately suspicious of the desire. It wasn’t a particularly cold or dreary evening; in fact, it was quite lovely. But why go into the woods at all when she could stay at home, with a cup of tea, reading long into the night?

In the end, the compulsion won out. It would do her good to get some fresh air, and she would be sure to only wander so far. She had no desire to lose her way. It didn’t matter that she had lived in Greendale her whole life—getting lost in the woods at night was as real a danger to her as it would be to a stranger. But just in case she did manage to get herself turned around, she packed a flashlight, a bottle of water, and a small knife into her jacket. Better prepared than dead, as her grandpa used to say.

She had only been walking for thirty or so minutes when a sense of foreboding tickled the hairs at the nape of her neck. Without realizing it, her feet had taken her in the direction of the hanging tree. How on earth had that happened? She had no desire to tempt the ghosts of those thirteen women so close to All Hallow’s Eve. 

She was just about to turn around when she caught slight movement out of the corner of her eye. Curious, she moved closer. There was a strange form curled on the ground beneath the tree. When it moved again, Mary could hear a faint moan, as if it were an injured animal. Wary that wild beasts could be their most ferocious when they were injured, Mary creeped forward at a snail’s pace, taking the knife out of her pocket as she did.

The sun had begun to set; everything her eyes could see was touched with twilight. Now that she was getting nearer to the animal, she realized that it _wasn’t_ an animal at all; it was a woman, nearly hidden beneath a pile of foliage and…netting? Rope?

“Oh my Lord,” said Mary, abandoning all fear and running to the woman’s side. “Are you alright?”

The woman made no response, except for another faint groan. She was lying on her stomach, face covered by her wavy red hair that was matted with twigs and leaves.

“Miss… Miss, are you hurt?” said Mary, kneeling beside her. At this proximity, she could see that the woman was clad in nothing but her underclothes, which were stained with blood. Mary felt sick at the thought that she might have happened upon a violent sexual assault. There was another groan, followed by an attempt at a word, but Mary couldn’t quite catch it.

“I’m going to cut the net off, alright? Let me know if I’m hurting you,” she said, taking out her knife. The net was the kind one might expect to find in a fishing town, not a mining one. How on earth had the woman gotten caught in it?

It was a slow process, but eventually Mary had sliced through enough of the netting for the woman to be able to move. Mary tried to turn her over, wanting to see her face, and was horrified to find that the reason she hadn’t heard any recognizable words was that the woman had a gag in her mouth.

“Oh, you poor thing! Here, let me…” said Mary, tugging gently on the rag. Once her mouth was free, the woman turned her head to the side and succumbed to a coughing fit.

“Here,” said Mary, reaching into her pocket once more to retrieve her water bottle. “Take a drink.”

But the woman only shook her head, still coughing. Mary let her eyes drag over her, assessing any possibly life-threatening injuries. It looked like the woman had been kicked in her stomach and ribs; there were nasty bruises forming in contrast to the otherwise pale skin. The fabric of her brassiere was soaked with blood. Across her chest someone had carved the word: _witch_.

Mary sucked in a sharp breath. Someone had brutally attacked this woman, and she suspected it had been purely for sport. There hadn't been witches in Greendale since the 1690s. At least, there hadn't been any she could find record of.

“How could anyone do this?” whispered Mary, her eyes fixated on the bloody word. What kind of sadist would carve such a thing into a woman's chest and then leave her to die of dehydration or exposure? It would have been kinder to just kill her out right.

It took the woman a while for her coughing to subside, which made Mary worry about a possible serious injury to her ribs. Eventually, she breathed a bit easier, and managed to say, “Hate… is a powerful thing.”

Suddenly realizing that she was staring at a nearly-naked woman, Mary rushed to take off her jacket. “Oh! You must be freezing. Here, take this.”

“But it’ll be ruined,” said the woman, hoarsely, refusing to take the offered garment. “The blood…”

Mary shook her head, leaning over to help the woman sit up so that she could wrap the jacket around her shoulders. “Never mind that. My name is Mary. Would you tell me your name?”

Pulling the jacket tighter around herself, the woman closed her eyes. “Zelda. Zelda Spellman.”

Mary’s eyes went wide. “You mean—the people who run the mortuary? You’re one of them?”

“It’s a family business,” Zelda said, nodding, as she put a hand to her hair to feel how matted it was. Mary could see her fingers were slick with blood.

“Why don’t we get you back to my cabin? Then we can call a doctor...and the police.”

“No,” said Zelda, attempting to stand, but unable to get her feet under her. Mary had to help lift her up, and even then, the woman was unsteady.

“No? But Miss Spellman, someone beat you and left you to die in the woods!” said Mary, scandalized.

Now that Zelda was standing up, her state of undress became even more pronounced. Mary cursed herself for the way her eyes traveled down Zelda’s bare legs and back up. She didn’t mean to be rude, but it wasn’t every day you happened upon a barely-clothed woman in the woods, especially at this time of year, when no one ought to be outside without a jacket.

"It was just a bunch of teenagers trying to prove their masculinity," said Zelda, wrapping her arms around her ribs as she tried to catch her breath.

"_Teenagers_ did this?" said Mary, baffled, thinking of her students, and how she would never believe a single one of them capable of such a horrific attack.

Zelda's eyes shifted away. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Marry nodded, slipping her arm around the woman to support her weight. "Of course. Let's get you cleaned up and then we can talk."

"I'd rather just go home immediately," said Zelda, taking each step slowly, as though even that small motion pained her. Mary could see that her left ankle had a nasty purple bruise and had swelled to twice its normal size. She knew walking on a sprained ankle was agony, but Mary didn't know how else they could get back to the cabin. It would take far too long for Mary to return to the cabin on her own and enlist the help of someone who could carry Zelda; the sun was already setting, and Mary didn't want to leave the woman alone in the woods for even a moment more.

"Won't it worry your family if you show up looking like this?" said Mary, pausing a moment so that Zelda could catch her breath. At this rate, it would take them an hour to get to her cabin.

"I don't intend to let them see me," said Zelda vaguely, through gritted teeth.

Mary didn't like the sound of that. Did Zelda really think it was a good idea to hide this sort of thing from the people who cared about her?

"Why don't we just focus on making it back to the cabin," said Mary, stopping once more because Zelda seemed to be growing weaker. "I wish there were a better way to get you to my home. I think walking is making your injuries worse."

"There is a way," Zelda's breath was coming in terrible gasps, "but I'll have to wipe your memory." 

"What?"

Suddenly, Mary felt the peculiar sensation of sinking into quick sand. She closed her eyes, praying the feeling would go away, and when she opened them again, they were miraculously inside her cottage. Baffled by this impossible event, Mary looked to Zelda in awe, but the woman in question had collapsed to the floor the moment they reappeared.

"Miss Spellman? Zelda?" said Mary, immediately bending down to check the woman's pulse. She could hardly find it. "Zelda! Oh God. Stay with me."

{to be continued}


End file.
